Silent Accumulation

Dust lingers like a sigh in the sunlight's grace,

a gentle reminder of moments long passed,

each speck carries tales of time’s slow embrace,

a film over memories that cling and contrast.

In an attic box, I reach for a book,

the cover worn thin, stories buried beneath,

it whispers of laughter, the days I forsook,

as dust dances lightly, concealing my grief.